Only
by GloryJotter
Summary: A/U "Bullocks to Stan" Feeling unfulfilled in her personal life, Hayley Smith takes a unique comfort in the attentions of Avery Bullock. As her illicit relationship with the older man threatens to become public, Bullock and Jeff butt heads in trying to win over Hayley's affection. [Hayley/Bullock]
1. Hayley 1

**A/N: The Hayley/Bullock pairing is one that I have liked in American Dad, and I enjoyed how they played upon it in 'Blood Crieth Unto Heaven,' but I feel it requires more development. This will be told in several perspectives, switching between Hayley and Bullock, with an occasional jaunt to someone else.**

(Obligatory) **American Dad characters owned by Seth MacFarlane**

* * *

"What's the matter, Babe?" Jeff's voice came out of the darkness, almost startling Hayley out of the half-sleep she had fallen into. He was tracing his finger up and down her bare back, his typical lackluster invitation for sex, but she hadn't responded yet.

"It's nothing, Jeff." She said, burying her face in her pillow and continuing to ignore him. She was getting tired of Jeff's trailing fingers, but if she told him to stop, he would. If she told him to keep going, he would. If she told him to jump out of the fucking window, he probably would. She bit back her anger, telling herself that she was just tired, and tried to fall asleep. Eventually Jeff's dancing fingertip smoothed out into a full palm before he got tired and simply wrapped his arm around her waist, settling into the bed next to her. She softly elbowed him away.

"It's too hot." She complained, wiggling uncomfortably under the weight of his arm.

"Oh. Okay." He said, pulling back the limb and curling into a ball, facing the opposite wall. Hayley closed her eyes again, but couldn't drift into sleep.

"Jeff, you're suffocating me." She bitched, wanting him to say something back, but instead he just said, "Oh, sorry about that." And went to curl up on the bean-bag chair instead. Hayley growled in frustration.

"You know what, Jeff? I just don't think I want you in my room tonight."

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, his eyes wide and wondering. He was like a child, really.

"No, just… I'm just cranky and tired and I can't sleep with you around." She said. He shrugged and picked up his pants from the floor. After buttoning them and slipping on his flip-flops, he pulled his van key from the pocket.

"Can I have my shirt at least?" He asked. Hayley looked down at herself, Jeff's old, stained shirt hanging off her body like a weight.

"No, it's comfortable." She said. Jeff shrugged and bid her goodnight, reaching for the door handle.

"Is that it?" Hayley asked, frustration pushing at her tone. Jeff raised his eyebrows in a wide-eyed expression of wonder.

"What do you mean? I'm doing what you want."

"You aren't going to fight for yourself? Even a little?" She asked, sitting up.

"Why would I fight with you, Babe? I love you too much." He smiled and left the room before Hayley could say anything. She looked back down at the shirt, the old musk of pot and Jeff's cologne floating like a halo around her from her body heat, before stripping off the shirt in frustration and pulling her bedsheet over her head. She sometimes felt like a freak, demanding more of Jeff than his subservient, hen-pecked ways. Surely women liked that? For God's sake, he was practically a giant, fuckable doll. Still, she felt like she was doing herself a disservice. Surely her love would be better suited for someone who could challenge her, fight with her.

That's what she craved, a good old-fashioned, knock-down, drag-out _fight_. And she wanted it to be about something petty, something that didn't even matter. 'Hey hon? Where's my razor?' 'Oh, that thing was so old, I threw it away.' 'But I could have used it again!' 'You have like a dozen more, just open a new one!' 'Why should I use a new one when I had at least one use left on my old one?' 'You could get cut more easily with a dull razor!' 'I'm not made of money, you inconsiderate...'

She smiled at her musings. Her parents were like that. They loved each other more than anything, she knew that, but they fought. They fought all the time. They were passionate people, with passionate opinions. That's what she wanted. She wanted someone who would call her out of being a hypocrite and cuddle her the same night. She wanted someone who would push her mind and her body, someone who would make her ideologically uncomfortable, not fall into a rut. That's all Jeff was- a personified rut.

She flipped her pillow over and dug her face into its cool surface, letting out a slow breath through her nose. Tomorrow she would do it, she would finally break up with him. She just couldn't do it it anymore. She fell easily into sleep then, images of how she would do the deed floating in her mind before she drifted into blackness.

* * *

Breaking up with him had almost been more infuriating than dating him. She tried to wipe from her memory the cheery way he had called after her.

" _Good call, Babe! You can do better!"_

Who did Jeff Fischer think he was? What a bastard, to take away the only joy she would've had in dumping him. Give her an emotion, any emotion! Not just acquiescence and brainlessness.

Still seething, she stomped into the kitchen to find her parents and Roger dilligently folding napkins.

"It's just a CIA carnival, why are we folding napkins?" Francine asked, carefully placing a folded bird on the table in front of her.

"Because there'll be food, and my boss likes to wipe his mouth on swans." Stan replied, then cast an exasperated look at Roger, "What the hell is this?"

"Metrosexual soccer icon David Beckham. I can't do swans, I don't know why."

"Hey, if the whole CIA is at this carnival, who's out there undermining democracy?" Hayley snarked, standing between her parents.

"The FBI pulls a double shift." Stan snapped back, furrowing his brow, "Now listen, when we get there you better keep your liberal piehole shut!" his eyes narrowed and he pounded the table, "My promotion depends on it."

Hayley sneered and almost replied before her mother interjected.

"Honestly, Stan. What does Hayley have to do with you getting a promotion? It should be enough that you're really good at your job."

Francine was always trying to do that, distract Stan's irrationality back to the point at hand, but it hardly ever worked. As prime evidence, Stan immediately went into one of his non-sequitur rants before demanding that the whole family attend the carnival with him. At this Hayley scoffed.

"Why do I need to go? You don't even want me there." Hayley said. Stan sniffed derisively and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I need to show Bullock that I can unify people, besides the fact that there is nothing more American than a beautiful family walking together into a government funded carnival."

"I didn't know you were taking me, Stan. That's wonderful." Roger said.

"What on earth makes you think you're coming with us?" Stan demanded.

"Well, you did say beautiful family." Roger smiled, "So who else could you have been referring to?"

Stan crumpled napkin David Beckham and threw it at the alien's head.

* * *

There may be only one thing that was more American than a beautiful family walking together into a government funded carnival, and that was a beautiful family immediately splitting up as soon as they reached the center of said carnival. Hayley was at a loss, desperately looking around for something, anything, that would catch her interest. AS she wandered around, she eventually caught sight of her dad and his work buddies. At a garbled announcement, half of them left, leaving Stan alone with Avery Bullock.

 _Perfect_. Hayley thought. If there was one person in this whole carnival that could get her blood boiling, it was her father's boss, and she was itching for a fight. She sauntered casually up to them, putting a defiant hand on her hip as she stood next to her father.

"Deputy Director Bullock. You're looking well." She sneered. Her father cast a desperate look at her, then shifted back to Bullock apologetically.

"Sir, you remember Hayley. My… son's sister." He laughed uncomfortably. Bullock looked Haley up and down, his eyebrow raising in slight disapproval.

"Of course. I'm surprised they let you through security," He said, a laugh in his voice, "I guess those scanners can't detect half-baked political ideology."

"Heh, you're lucky." Hayley bit back, "As a cockroach, you'll survive the nuclear war you're working so hard to incite." She turned away, feeling satisfied with herself as she heard her father mumble a half-baked excuse. Bullock's voice suddenly rose about the crowd.

"That's right, run along! Go play Ultimate Frisbee with your drum circle, and leave politics to the adults!"

With a coal of hatred burning in her chest, she turned to face him. "You know, I actually don't play Frisbee. I guess the CIA got their intel wrong." She narrowed her eyes, "Again."

~o~O~o~


	2. Avery 1

Avery Bullock watched Hayley Smith as she stormed away, her father laughing uncomfortably at his side.

"Kids, what can you do, right?" Stan said too loudly, "You try to raise them right, and _bam_! Got yourself a hippie."

"She certainly is a feisty one, Smith." Bullock replied, eyebrow raised, then he looked to Stan. "It looks like you have your hands full with your family, so I'll let you get back to it."

"But, sir-" Stan said, pleading, "I mean, I'm so sorry. I'll get her to apologize to you-"

"No need, Smith." Bullock said dismissively, "I have a Boring Suit Contest to judge. I'll see you back at the office." He pretended not to see Stan's withered look, pretended not to take a small joy in it. If there was one thing Avery Bullock loved about his job, it was teasing the hell out of his desperate, brown-nosing employees.

Throughout the rest of the carnival Stan avoided Avery as much as possible, and in the least subtle of ways, but Hayley... Hayley would meet his eye every time, a flame behind her stare, and he began to rethink what he had said to her. Perhaps he didn't give her enough credit. There was certainly… _something_ there. Something behind the flash of her eye, the confident way she held herself, a beacon of nonconformity in the center of the crowd. How old was the girl anyway, eighteen?

At the end of the carnival, as all the families began shuffling out, he caught a glance of Hayley one last time. She glared at him as they passed and he met her gaze evenly. When she flipped him off, he responded with a simple smile, which seemed only to enrage her all the more.

 _I'll call her tonight._

 _~o~O~o~_


	3. Hayley 2

"Come back here, young lady!" Stan called up the stairs, stopping Hayley in her stomping huff, "I want you to call my boss and apologize!"

"Like hell I will!" Hayley shouted, gripping the banister so hard her knuckles were white, "that fascist started it!"

"Hayley!" Her father screamed up the stairs, cut off by her slamming door. She could hear Francine's murmur and Stan's ardent reply before they fell into their own argument. She picked up her cell phone and tossed herself on the beanbag chair. Typically she would call Jeff and get back together with him, but she was still too riled up, still looking for a fight, and Jeff would welcome her back with open arms. He wasn't enough, just… wasn't enough-

Her phone was ringing in her hands, the caller ID read 'restricted.' She considered for a long moment, letting the phone almost ring out to voicemail, before finally hitting the button and bringing it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hayley? Hayley Smith? Have I caught you at a good time?" That low English drawl belonged to one person. Bullock.

"I would say I'm surprised you found me," Hayley said, "But then again I suppose illegally spying on citizens is the one thing the CIA knows how to do."

"Aha, you are a stitch." Bullock said, "Look. I will admit, I may have acted a tad _inappropriately_ at the carnival today. What would you say if I offered to take you out for coffee, my treat?"

"Are you actually paying, or will you be using our taxes?"

"Come now, Hayley. We both know it's the _local_ government that misappropriates that money."

Hayley began to smile, but caught herself and deadened her features. Defiantly, she raised her hand in the air and extended her middle finger to nothing.

"If you can tell me what I'm doing right now, you'll have my reply." She spit into the receiver.

"You're probably flipping off your wall, face set with defiance." His voice sounded like a laugh. Hayley dropped her hand and glanced around, seeking out anything that could double as a camera, "And now you're probably trying to find the drone I'm spying on you with."

"You have a drone trained on me?!" Hayley demanded, standing suddenly. Bullock's laughter filled her ear and she frowned.

"No, Hayley, I don't, but you are young, and paranoid," He paused, "and not much different than me, to be perfectly honest. I'll meet you for coffee in three hours."

"Wait…" Hayley said, despite herself, "You haven't said where."

"At your favorite coffee shop!" Bullock replied, and hung up without another word. Hayley stared at her phone in disbelief, letting out a short huff and tucking it back into her pocket. She gazed around her room suspiciously, not completely trusting that there really weren't any cameras around. Just to be safe, she tied one of her headbands around her teddy bear's eyes before reaching under her bed and pulling out the box she kept her stash in. She sighed when she saw how low she was, only enough left for a couple more joints. She had meant to make Jeff buy more before she broke up with him, but had been so in-the-moment that she had forgotten. She sighed, pinching out a little less than she would normally use, before rolling the joint and lighting up. If there was one thing to be said about Jeff, he know how to find good weed.

She settled herself on her bed, staring at the ceiling and taking long pulls from the joint, trying to keep her mind clear. What could coffee with Bullock possibly accomplish? She blew out slowly, languishing in the acrid smoke. Nothing, that's what. He was the complete opposite of her in every way. He was an old, set-in-his-ways republican and the director of a corrupt, if not the most corrupt, government organization in America. They had nothing in common, would never have anything in common. Maybe this was her chance to finally get her fight. Maybe she could use this opportunity to put that smug bastard in his place and finally get rid of this strange sparring urge she'd had recently. She was confident that nothing she could say could actually jeopardize her father's career standing. It's not like Bullock didn't already know what she was like, what her views were.

"Sure." She said, to the air, "Why not."

* * *

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Hayley demanded, attempting to keep her voice at a publicly acceptable level. Bullock's smug smile, glowing at her from across the table, was the most punchable thing she had ever seen.

"Of course it does!" Bullock said, reaching into his belt and brandishing his gun. He waved it around carelessly, causing many of the people at surrounding tables to either cry out or duck, "See, complete control!" He placed a finger on the trigger and pointed it at Hayley.

"I could kill you right now, you know." He said, his voice easy, "I could do it right here, in front of everyone, and get away with it."

"You aren't proving your point." Hayley said, "You're proving mine."

"I know." Bullock said, smiling and tucking the gun back in his belt. Their fellow patrons looked relieved that the gun was gone, but Hayley noticed many of them flagging the poor lone waiter for their check.

"You see, Hayley, no matter how many restrictions we put on gun ownership, it doesn't matter. What matters is who is holding the gun and what freedoms they can buy. The richest man in America can buy his freedom for the same crime a poor man would hang for instantly. It doesn't matter how they got the gun. Even if the poor man's gun was legal and the rich man's gun was not, the outcome is the same."

"I still don't see how that-"

"Let's finish this discussion at my house." Bullock interrupted her, leaning forward and staring into her eyes. It knocked her off her guard and she sat back, eyes wide.

"What?"

"I have a bottle of Merlot at my house that is just calling out for us."

"What? No, I don't want to go anywhere with you." She said, furrowing her brow.

"Yes you do." Bullock said, lacing his fingers under his chin, "And you know it."

"No, I don't." Hayley demanded, but his unwavering stare was making her blush. She crossed her arms and leaned against her chair, trying to ignore him, but it became increasingly difficult. She met his stare, hoping to intimidate him, but the trick didn't work like it did with Jeff. He kept his gaze steady, his eyes deep and penetrating,

"Come with me, Hayley, and you won't regret it." He said, a low, salacious growl in his throat. Hayley's heart jumped in her chest, entirely without her permission, and she slammed her hand flat on the table.

"What could you possibly do that would make me even want to consider coming over to your house right now, Avery Bullock?"

Avery raised his eyebrow, a smirk pressing up on one side of his face. Hayley growled low and snatched her purse from the back of her chair.

~o~O~o~


	4. Avery 2

The door slammed into the wall as Avery pushed into Hayley, his tongue shoving past her lips with force. She groaned into his mouth, clutching at his back for balance with one hand as she shook off her jacket with the other. He broke away from her, meeting her eyes for a small moment before ducking down and sucking on her neck, pulling the skin between his teeth and biting down. She squealed, her knees giving way before she shoved him away from her. He took a step back, watching as she took the front door in her hand and slammed it shut, making the front of the house shudder. He grinned at her evilly, she returned the expression, and she bolted for the living room.

"Show me what you're made of, Deputy Director." She hissed, unclasping her belt and shimmying out of her jeans. She sat at the edge of the couch, where he met her and took her face in his hands roughly, pressing his mouth into hers. He could feel her hands clutching desperately at his torso, pulling his tucked shirt out of his pants and unclasping his belt.

"In a hurry, little girl?" Avery rumbled, taking her firmly by the wrists. She glared up at him through her eyelashes, then wrapped her legs around his, knocking out his knees and making him lose his balance.

"I see your CIA reflexes are in top condition." She hissed.

"Absolutely." He said, feeling Hayley yank down his trousers. He grasped her hips and pulled her closer, pressing his freed erection into her panties. She moaned and reached up, yanking his head down roughly by the neck and taking his mouth into hers.

"Fuck me, Avery." She whispered roughly into his ear. Avery laughed.

"You would like that, would you?" He sneered. She pushed on his chest, forcing him back a few paces, before standing and shimmying out of her panties. She then stepped toward him, grasping his tie and pulling him close.

"Fuck you." She hissed.

"Do it." He replied. She dug her fingers into his shoulder and forced him to circle her. She stepped in front of him and pushed him down onto the couch, where she then straddled him. He shifted downwards, angling himself to aid her as she lowered herself onto his lap, positioning his erection with one hand and filling herself with it. They moaned together loudly. As she moved on top of him, he ran his hands under her tank and took her breasts in his hands, running his thumbs over her nipples. She dug her fingers into the couch behind him, using the furniture as leverage. As she moved faster, Avery threw his head back and called out, "oh, Hayley! Hit me!"

Without hesitation, or stopping her movement, she freed one hand and slapped him flat-palmed across the face. His eyes opened in surprise, staring at her.

"What are you going to do about it?" She growled, bouncing on him. Avery raised an eyebrow, then returned the slap. The blow coursed through her body and caused her to moan louder, her voice echoing off the walls and hardwood floor. She raised a hand to slap him again, but he stopped her. He took her around the waist and in one smooth motion moved them from the couch to the floor, pressing her hand above her head. He shoved her tank up over her breasts, pushing it up under her chin, and took in the sight of her perfect, young body. Her eyes flashed with the kind of anger he knew well, and he knew how to respond to it. With her pinned underneath him, he set his teeth on her jawline and pushed himself deeper inside. She raised her legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist, and dug the fingernails from her free hand into his back.

"Avery!" She called out, her voice high and loud. He smiled at the reaction and released her hand, setting both of his on her hips and hitching her pelvis up. She clasped at his shoulders with both hands, bruising his collarbone with her thumbs. She arched her back, causing her breasts to dance under his movement and her hair splayed around her head like a halo. She was unbelievably gorgeous, this rebellious daughter of Stan's, and she was entirely Bullock's.

* * *

Avery awoke to what felt like a hangover, but he had no distinct recollection of drinking the previous evening. When he tried to sit up from the bed, he realized that one leg was handcuffed to the bedpost, and his underwear felt tighter than usual. When he looked down, he discovered they were pink.

Oh, that's right.

He turned to his side. Hayley Smith was passed out, clutching the crop like a stuffed animal, her hair wild and matted around her head. Her makeup was smeared and she looked like death warmed over. He twisted his body, wetting his thumb with his tongue and running it under her eyes, wiping away the smeared eyeliner. She woke to this touch, a hoarse groan rising from her throat.

"Avery… holy fuck." She chuckled, her voice deep from sleep. She sat up and ran a hand through her tangled hair, flipping it out behind her in a way that made Avery think of horse tails. He set his hand on the bed, but she took it in hers and caressed it, separating his fingers and bringing them to her mouth. Gazing at him from hooded eyes, she took his pointer finger in her mouth and sucked it from base to tip. "How are you feeling this morning?"

" _Heh_ , my age." He said with a groan. She chuckled, moving closer and laying a hand on his chest.

"I'm not surprised, it got a little… wild last night." She breathed, nosing along his neck and trailing her hand across several fresh bruises on his abdomen. Slowly, she pushed her fingers under the lip of the tight panties Bullock was wearing and stroked the base of his shaft with her fingernails. He felt himself react to her touch and moved to kiss her when there was a sound at the door.

"Damn." He hissed, "Where is the damn handcuff key?"

Hayley swept a hand over the bedsheet before sitting up in realization and reached into the hair at the back of her head. For some reason the key was tied to a lock of hair right behind her ear. She untied it quickly and used it to free him. He rubbed his raw ankle lightly before grabbing the robe hanging off the back of the door and left the room.

As he approached the door, he had a sinking feeling that he recognized the figure behind the rippled glass. When he opened it, he discovered he was right.

"Smith."

"Morning, sir!" Stan said, chest puffed out with pride, "I took the liberty of running a few errands for you."

Bullock raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Oh, well…" his mind trailed to Stan's daughter, lying naked in his bed just a few rooms back. _Please don't come out, Hayley_. He thought desperately. Before he could say anything else, though, Stan reached out with a pair of Bullock's leather shoes.

"I shined your _super large_ shoes, you stallion!" Stan said with a suggestive hint, "And I picked up your prescription of Viagra! That's one lucky lady! Eh, eh?" Stan laughed, then pushed past Avery into the house, "Here, let me bring these in for you!"

"That's really not necessary!" Avery said, holding out a hand to stop Stan. As he did, his robe fell open a bit and he saw Stan's eyes travel down to the pink panties stretched across Avery's hips. Stan's eyes snapped back up, his face flushing brightly.

"Oh, _oh_!" Stan mumbled. Avery tightened the robe around his waist, straightening his back.

"A man must let loose once in a while, Stan." Bullock said in his best CIA-boss voice, "and ladies' underwear is where I've found my niche. Do you have something to say about it?"

"Oh, no sir! Not at all! In fact, I sometimes wear my wife's bras!" Stan chuckled uncomfortably.

"Really, Smith?" Bullock raised an eyebrow, "That is very bizarre. I don't think I needed to know that."

"Oh, no, sir! No! Of course!" Stan backpedaled, "I was only joking of course-"

"So you lied to me?"

"No!" Stan shouted, then glanced around the room, "I just, I-"

"Thank you for my shoes and my prescription." Bullock said, taking them from Stan's still-outstretched hands. Stan struggled for words as Bullock edged him out of the front door.

"I'll… see you at the office?" Stan squeaked. Bullock gave a solemn nod, then shut the door.

"Was that my dad?" Hayley asked, coming around the corner. She had brushed her hair and put on one of Avery's overshirts, buttoning it just enough to leave a full dose of cleavage.

"It was." He said, approaching her and wrapping his large hands around her waist. She let herself be pulled into him, pressing the length of her torso against his body.

"Why do you fuck with him so much?" She murmured against his neck. He smiled and pulled at the top of her ear with his lips.

"He's easy to fuck with." He said, then slid one hand between the buttons and under one of Hayley's breasts, "Just like you're easy to fuck."

"That was weird." She said, pressing her lips to his neck, then stepping back."I started some coffee." she stepped away from him and walked toward the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder and wiggling her hips, "Can you come and tell me if it's strong enough?"

"I would be happy to." He laughed and followed.

~o~O~o~


	5. Hayley 3

"Where were you last night?" Francine asked as her daughter came through the kitchen door. Hayley adjusted her purse on her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably.

"Well, I, I mean-"

"Ugh, if it was another one of your out-of-town festivals I don't want to hear about it." Francine said with disgust, shaking her head, "I'm telling you, am I glad I got out of that life."

"Oh, come on Mom. You know you miss it." Hayley joked, putting a hand on her mother's shoulder. Francine rolled her eyes, then sniffed.

"That cologne… it's familiar." She said. Hayley stepped back, shaking her head.

"What? You're crazy, mom. It's… patchouli." She chuckled. Francine looked at her daughter, then back to the pot she was stirring.

"Whatever it is, you should go wash it off. It smells like spices and old sweat."

"You know how those festivals can get, Mom." Hayley said, then left the kitchen before Francine could say anything else. To be honest, it's not as if Hayley would really mind her mother knowing about Bullock if she thought that the relationship might turn into anything serious, but the man didn't seem like the bring-home-to-mother type. Especially given the near half-century age difference. She shrank as the thought hit her suddenly. Bullock had to be at least, what sixty? He hadn't seemed like it last night, he was so full of vigor and life, then again… he did use Viagra.

The thought struck her suddenly. Viagra- that means… that means he must have taken it before he went to coffee with her. The bastard planned it, he planned everything! She scoffed as she closed the door to her room, stripping off the clothes that had spent all last night either on Bullock's floor, or on Bullock. That bastard. He had planned everything. He was so manipulative and disgusting and awful and.. good. Oh, so good. It had been everything Hayley was looking for. She could feel the pit of her stomach stir at the thought of his manipulation.

 _I am so fucked in the head_. Hayley told herself, pulling her robe around her shoulders and heading down the hall to the bathroom. She could smell Bullock on her body, the smell of his cologne and sweat clung to her like a film. Jeff wasn't like that. No matter how kinky or rough they got, Jeff was so unobtrusive that even the smell of his sweat didn't intrude on her senses. She kind of liked the musk, it was invasive, it was aggressive. She _liked_ aggressive. It's what Jeff lacked. He was a sweet guy, although could be inconsiderate at times, but he never stirred that same kind of passion in her. He was just… mellow. He just existed, and she needed something more. She needed someone with a fire behind their eyes, someone with a rage and wit to match her own. Someone exactly like Bullock.

Hayley had just stepped into the shower when someone pounded on the door.

"Hayley Dreamsmasher Smith!" Stan's voice boomed through the wood. Hayley's heart dropped. She had overheard her father's awkward exchange with Avery regarding the CIA Director's choice of under-apparel this morning, but had Stan recognized them as Hayley's? Maybe she hadn't stayed as far behind that doorway as she thought she had while she was eavesdropping, perhaps he had seen her and didn't know how to confront them about it. Or maybe it was something else entirely, she was being paranoid.

"What, Dad?" She called out in exasperation.

"I had the _worst_ exchange with my boss this morning, and it's all your fault!"

"My fault?" Hayley demanded.

"Yes!" Stan said, pounding an exclamatory fist into the door, "To make up for your little stunt at the carnival I went over to Bullock's house this morning to run some errands for him, Do you know what I saw? Things that cannot be unseen, Hayley." Stan said, pressing his face closer to the other side of the door, "Things that cannot be unseeeeeeeen."

 _If you only knew,_ she thought to herself and chuckled softly. Stan didn't know anything, didn't even suspect it.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, Dad." Hayley said, putting on her defiant tone again.

"I want you to tell me you'll apologize!" Stan shouted, "I was a shoo-in for that position until you had to go all liberal on one of the greatest men who ever lived!"

"I don't really care!" Hayley shouted back, "He doesn't deserve an apology! I'd rather die than apologize to that fascist's face!"

"Damn, it Hayley!" Stan shouted, but Francine's calm voice interrupted him.

"Stan, what are you doing shouting outside the bathroom?"

"Hayley won't apologize to my boss." Stan said, his voice pleading.

"Oh, Stan, leave her alone." Francine said dismissively, "She was out all night, can't you talk to her some other time?"

"No I ca- what?"

Stan opened the door to the bathroom unexpectedly. Hayley shrank back into the shower, pulling the curtain up around her.

"Dad! What the hell!"

"What were you doing out all night?" He demanded, his eyes flashing fiercely.

"Good Lord, Stan." Francine sighed in exasperation, taking her husband by the wrist and pulling his back out of the bathroom, "She was at a festival."

"Festival?" Stan said, "Is that why she smells weird?"

"Get out!" Hayley screamed. Stan cast her a withering look as Francine pulled him away.

"Apologize to my boss!"

"No!"

Francine yanked Stan out of the bathroom and leaned back through the doorway.

"Have a good shower, honey." She said, and closed the door as she left.

Hayley brought her hands to her face, sighing into her palms. This household was a fucking mess. She sighed, pouring body wash onto her loofah and had just begun to scrub her arms when the door opened again.

"Dad!" Hayley called in frustration.

"I prefer 'daddy,' but only in bed." Roger replied, pulling up the stool and leaning into the mirror.

"Roger, please. I'm trying to take a shower here."

"This will only take a minute." Roger said, leaning closer into the mirror, "Hey, when I do -this- with my face, do I look like Lawrence Olivier?"

"No, Roger." Hayley said, deadpan, "you do not, nor will ever, look like Lawrence Olivier."

"You don't have to be so nasty about it." Roger said, putting his hands on his hips, "Keep up that kind of attitude and I'll tell your parents that it's Bullock they're smelling on you."

"What?!" Hayley demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"Come on now, Hayley." Roger said, stepping down from the stool, "I'm an alien after all, I have a fourth sense."

"Sixth sense?"

"Whatever." Roger dismissed, studying the back of his fingers.

"How did you find out?" Hayley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're no fun." Roger said with a huff, "I saw you leaving the coffee shop together, he was getting… hand-saaaay." Roger tutted, attempting a wink that made the whole left side of his face scrunch awkwardly. Hayley just slowly blinked at him. "Whatever. I'll tell Frannie and Staniel about your little fling, what do you think of that?" He threatened.

"Whatever, Roger." Hayley said, disappearing back into the shower. Angrily, the alien yanked the curtain back, causing Hayley to shrink into herself to cover her body.

"ROGER!" Hayley screamed. Roger's eyes swept over her body, taking in the fresh blossoming bruises and teeth marks that littered the skin he could see.

"Damn." He said, crossing his arms and smirking, "Did you fuck or get into an MMA fight?"

"Shut the fuck up, Roger." Hayley said, yanking the shower curtain back between them, "And I don't care if you tell my parents."

"Then why were you so hush hush about it with Frannie this morning?"

"I just, "Hayley thought for a moment, "I don't want my dad to use it as the reason why he doesn't get that promotion."

"Stan is up for a promotion and his daughter's riding his boss all the way to boomsville." Roger narrated to the bathroom tiles, "How would that hurt his chances of a promotion?"

"You know how my dad is." Hayley said.

"That I do." Roger agreed, "All right, then, wash that balding Bullock stank off your body and have a fabulous day." he called out cheerily, leaving the bathroom door ajar. Hayley sighed and continued her shower, taking stock of the tender places on her body. Avery had been quite rough last night. Then again. so had she, and she wanted more.

~o~O~o~


	6. Steve

Steve scoffed angrily at the television in front of him, clutching the game controller like it was a lifeline. Roger opened Steve's door and slipped in right as Steve had finally recovered his character, rounding the boss and preparing to deliver the final blow.

Seeing that Steve hadn't noticed him, Roger snuck around his back and crawled onto the boy's bed, leaning over and putting his face not two inches from Steve's ear.

"Whacha doin?" he whispered. Steve started, dropping the controller, and watched in horror as the boss turned around and killed him.

"Damn it, Roger!" Steve said, retrieving his dropped controller and throwing it at the wall. He turned off the console in a huff and crossed his arms. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get to that part?"

"I'm sure it was ages. Listen, I have some juicy gossip and I am just _bursting_ at the seams!"

"It's not going to be like that time you found my dad's stash of hair dye, is it?" Steve asked crossing his arms, "Because you already-"

"No, no, nothing like that." Roger said dismissively, "Our little Hayleykins has a new boyfriend, and you'll never _guess_ who it is."

"Who?"

"Oh." Roger said, his voice somewhat defeated, "I was hoping you would guess."

"Just tell me, Roger."

"I just found out that baby hippie Hayley has been doing the nasty with your Dad's boss."

"What? Bullock? You're crazy."

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Roger said, making the gesture across his abdomen, "and by the looks of it he likes his meat... ten-der-iiized."

"EWW! Roger!" Steve said, scrunching his face and covering his ears with his hands, "How could you even know that in the first place?"

"Walked in on her in the bathroom. Poor girl looks like the loser of a Rock'em Sock'em bout."

"I don't even want to think about it." Steve shuddered, "Why would she, I mean, it doesn't make any sense."

"Well, she was complaining about Jeff not being challenging enough, remember?" Roger said, slipping off the bed and waddling toward the door, "Anyway, I'm bored now. I'm gonna go make a Mimosa. You want one?"

"You'd give me a Mimosa?"

"Ahaha, no. Why would I do that? Ta-ta."

Steve scowled after the alien as he heard the footsteps retreating down the hall. No way, Roger couldn't be telling the truth. Sure, Hayley had low standards… no standards… but still. Why would she even _want_ to go for someone like Bullock? He was an old man, to begin with, and their dad's boss, and the director of the CIA. None of this made any sense.

Steve poked his head out of his room. Down the hall he could hear Hayley still in the shower. Bursting in on her was probably not the best method of retrieving his desired information. He thought for a moment. Her cell phone… she probably left it in her bedroom.

As he approached his sister's bedroom door he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Should he do this? If Hayley was having an affair with Bullock, why should he interfere? Then again, why shouldn't he? If Roger was right then Hayley was making a huge mistake. Why would anyone want to date someone so much older than them? If this was even _considered_ dating…

Pushing aside doubts, Steve cracked open the door to Hayley's room. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor in front of her bed, her purse slung haphazardly across the mattress. He prodded her jeans with his toes, feeling the pockets for her cell phone, before turning to her purse.

"This is so wrong, this is so wrong, this is so wrong…" Steve chanted to himself, unzipping the bag and peering inside. To his relief, the cell phone was sitting right on top, the screen already lit with a fresh text message.

 **Avery Bullock**

Damn it.

Steve glanced over his shoulder before pulling out the cell phone and swiping open the text.

 **Avery Bullock**

 _I had the most wonderful time with you last night. Here's a little something to remember me by._

Steve raised his eyebrow in confusion, but all was answered when the phone dinged a second time and a picture lit up the screen. Steve nearly vomited into his own mouth and he turned off the cell, flinging it away from him.

 _My sister is having an affair with our dad's boss_. Steve thought to himself, _a gross, awful affair._

 _I must end this._

Steve looked around Hayley's room, mind racing, before he heard a sound from outside. Leaning out Hayley's window, he saw Jeff Fischer coming out of his van, bleary-eyed and yawning.

Jeff. Yes… perfect.

~o~O~o~


	7. Avery 3

Avery Bullock rested his face on his hand, leaning over the table in a pose of extreme boredom as Stan's presentation continued. Even the younger man's booming voice couldn't keep Avery's attention, and he let his mind wander. Stan was obviously where Hayley got her dark hair, and Stan had the same passion behind his eyes, that same ardency. It wasn't something Bullock noticed at first, seeing Stan and his daughter together at CIA events or dinner parties, but now that he had seen Hayley behind closed doors, now that he had seen her passion and her raw desire, he realized just how like her father she was. It was a thought that had made his skin crawl at first, but now he accepted it and found himself fantasizing about seeing Hayley again whenever Stan was in the room.

"...Sir?" Stan said, rousing Bullock from his wandering mind.

"Oh, ah- what, Smith?"

"I'm finished." Stan said.

"Of course you are." Bullock said with a hearty chuckle, standing from his chair and clapping Stan on the back, "Right-o."

"So, what do you think?" Stan asked, voice hesitant. At a glance around the room, Bullock realized that they were waiting for him to answer."

"Why, erm… next week, Smith." He said, mind racing. Stan raised an eyebrow and Bullock glanced at the giant notepad, realizing that the presentation was about approval for a larger budget for the weapons department.

"I mean no." Bullock shook his head, "No, I mean-"

"Are you all right, sir?" Stan asked.

"No, Smith, I am not." Avery said, standing straight and tucking his hands behind his back, "I've been thinking about it a long time, and I am very much affected by the rude things your daughter said to me at the carnival."

"The carnival, sir?" Stan said suddenly flustered, "But… but that was weeks ago."

"So I've had a lot of time to reflect. I would like you to retrieve your daughter and bring her to my office for a discussion."

"Of, of course sir! And I am so sorry! I'll get her to apologise."

"Everything will be settled out in the end, Smith." Avery said, rocking slightly on his heels, "No need to worry about a thing."

* * *

Hayley clung to Bullock, mouth pressed hard into his shoulder in an attempt to stifle her cries. She was sitting on his desk, Avery leaning over her and pressing his palms into the dark wood as he thrust. She clutched at his torso, taking fistfuls of skin with his shirt as she rocked against him.

"Avery-" She moaned into his ear, her low, soft breath tickling him. He could feel her surge around him and she clung tighter, setting her teeth against his shoulder and biting as the final spasm rocked her body. He released almost immediately after and they sat for a moment, languishing in each other's arms before Bullock slid out of her and pulled up his underwear.

"Want mine?" Hayley said seductively, sliding off the desk and reaching for her abandoned panties.

"In fact I do." he said, snatching the underwear from her. She watched in disbelief as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a desk drawer, tossing the panties into it before locking it again and tossing the key into a vase in the corner.

"Oh, come on." She said, walking over to the vase. The neck was too narrow for her to stick her hand into, and the whole thing was too large for her to overturn.

"You'd better get dressed, Hayley." Bullock said, moving the mouse on his computer and looking at the security footage, "Your father is on his way- and I didn't lock my office door."

~o~O~o~


	8. Hayley 4

"Bullock!" Hayley said in shock, scrambling for her pants and pulling them up over her bare hips. Bullock laughed, casually pulling out a clorox wipe and scrubbing down the top of the desk. Hayley shifted her hips uncomfortably and ran her hands through her hair. She pulled her signature headband out of her pocket and stretched it over her head. She heard her father coming down the hallway, so she took her place across from Bullock, who was now sitting primly at his disinfected mahogany desk. She crossed her arms and glared at him, enduring Bullock's last wink before the office door creaked open.

"Ah, come in, Smith." Bullock said, smile wide. How could he do it? How could he look so proper and put together so quickly? She was sure the evidence of their indiscretion was written all over her, her body tingled and she felt hot and ragged. Her hair was surely a mess, and she felt weird and dirty in her jeans without underwear.

"Your daughter has put up quite the battle, Smith." Bullock said, gesturing to Hayley. She felt herself blush, which made her angry, "But I think I've set her to rights."

"Did you apologize?" Stan said, staring down his daughter disapprovingly. She crossed her arms and glared at Bullock.

"No, I didn't." She said, raising an eyebrow.

"But I believe we've come to terms, eh Hayley?" Bullock said, eyebrow raising. Surely Stan could see the lascivious way he looked at her, the suggestive twinkle in his eye. Hell, couldn't he _smell_ the sex in the air? The room was heavy with it. But, in true Stan fashion, he was too self-absorbed to notice anything other than what he expected to see. Bullock had planned on it.

"We're just going to have to agree to disagree." She said, returning his look. Bullock smiled softly and chuckled.

"I can see where she gets her spit, Smith." Bullock stood and came around the desk, approaching Stan and putting an arm around his shoulders. Hayley noticed with a sly grin that Bullock's fly was unzipped.

"I'm so sorry, Sir-"

"Nothing to be sorry for, old chum." Bullock said, all smiles, "It's evidence of your strong presence, even if your views are different. I want that kind of man, Smith. I want that kind of man to be my deputy."

"What, Sir, do you mean-"

"You tell me, Deputy Deputy Director Stan Smith." Bullock said with a sly grin. Stan's face lit up with excitement.

"Really sir? Are you serious?"

"Of course I am, Smith!" Bullock said, taking Stan's hand in his and shaking it vigorously. Stan was dazed with happiness.

"Oh my God, sir. Thank you!"

"I do expect something from you in return, though." Bullock said, shying a glance at Hayley.

"Anything, sir!" Stan said. Hayley's throat closed, hoping that Bullock wouldn't say something that would give away their connection.

"I want to have dinner with your family." Bullock said, "This Saturday, eh? I've heard your wife is quite the chef."

"From who?" Hayley snarked, but Stan was too ecstatic to even notice. In a wash of praises, Stan took Hayley by the arm and dragged her out of Bullock's office. The last thing she saw was Avery's smug face as he blew her a small kiss.

* * *

The family was rushing around in preparation for Avery Bullock's arrival. Francine had styled her hair large and wore a blue 50's style dress complete with apron. She had pressed Stan's suit and he stood straight, his chest puffed out with pride as he surveyed the house. Steve was also in a suit and looked more like Stan than he ever had in his life. Roger was locked in the attic, much to his chagrin, and Hayley had been told to wear a dress and pin her hair back from her face instead of wearing her headband. She replied to the request with the same amount of bitching as she always did, but secretly wanted to comply. It was a little sick that she wanted Avery to see how beautiful she could be.

"All right, family." Stan said, lining them all up in a row in front of him, "I expect everyone to be on their best behavior tonight. Francine, make sure dinner is perfect. Steve, no weird nerd stuff tonight, okay? Just cool it down. Hayley." He turned to his daughter, eyebrows coming together in seriousness, "No liberal bullshit tonight, okay? He is my boss, he just promoted me, you will respect him."

"We'll see, dad." Hayley said, crossing her arms.

"None of that sass!" Stan said, "You'd better watch it or I'll march you outside and you can sleep with that bum you broke up with who is still outside my house."

Hayley cast a glance out the front window. Jeff's van was, in fact, still outside. She wondered briefly why Stan didn't have the van towed if he hated it so much, but she brushed the thought aside. If she really wanted to start a fight with Jeff, she could have asked him to move the van. No. on the other hand, he would have just said 'okay' and attempted to push it out. Alone. Like an idiot. She felt her eyes rolling at the thought of it and she turned back to her father.

"I'll be good." She said. Stan gave her a solemn nod and clapped.

"All right, Smiths! To your places!"

~o~O~o~


	9. Avery 4

Avery Bullock stepped casually out of his car, straightening out his suit jacket. Before him stood the Smith House, a middle-class paradise. He chuckled at his own thought and began walking up to the front door, casting a glance at the large front window. Stan had left the curtains open and he could see the man talking to his lined-up family, his eyes trained intensely on Hayley. He was probably giving her a lecture about how to behave in front of Bullock, a practice which Hayley and Avery had made light of several times. Bullock always figured that all he needed to do was spend more work time with Smith to loosen the man up, but realized with Hayley's help that it was almost more fun to keep him uptight and on his toes. Eventually the younger man would realize how much of Bullock's banter was deliberately antagonizing him.

Bullock was so caught in his musings that he hadn't noticed the van, or the man leaning on it, until he heard a shout. He turned around, coming face to face with a rough-faced young man, maybe in his early twenties.

"Pardon me?" Avery said, standing straighter and adopting his CIA Director stance.

"I said are you Avery Bullet?"

"Bullock." he said, raising his eyebrow, "Why?"

"My name is Jeff Fischer." Jeff said, puffing out his chest like a cartoon, "And I don't want you seeing Hayley anymore."

Bullock was taken aback, but overcame it quickly and chuckled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Bullock said, "I'm Stan Smith's boss. I'm here for a dinner party."

"I know that you've been seeing Hayley, and I don't like it." Jeff said, voice filled with adolescent conviction.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jeff-"

"Jeff Fischer, yes." Bullock said, pressing his temple between his thumb and forefinger, "That's not what I meant."

"Oh," Jeff withered a bit, bringing up one arm to scratch the other one, "I'm… I used to be Hayley's boyfriend."

"Used to be?" Bullock asked.

"She broke up with me about a month ago. Which I'm totally cool with, don't get me wrong. Hayley is awesome, but I don't think you're right for her."

"Hayley seems to think that I'm just what she needs." Bullock said, crossing his arms triumphantly over his chest. Jeff furrowed his brow, eyes searching the grass absently.

"I don't believe you. You must have seduced her or something."

"She came to me perfectly willingly," Bullock replied, "and we've been enjoying our time together. I'm afraid she's moved on from you, old chap. Best to be on the move." He glanced to Jeff's van.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Jeff said, "I want to hear it from Hayley."

"I'll send her out, then." Bullock said lazily, "you'll hear it from the horse's mouth."

"She's not a horse," Jeff said angrily, "and that's not enough. I want her to say it in front of her family. If she's really in love with you, she won't be afraid to let people know."

"Do you really think that's a fair position to put her in?" Bullock asked.

"Are you afraid she won't choose you?" Jeff asked.

The men stood off in the yard, experienced and confident Bullock with his back straight and his flashing eyes narrowed, with young, stooped Jeff glaring back under his hat, lip curling slightly under his scraggly mustache.

"Wait until the end of the dinner," Bullock said finally, "and don't cry when you lose."

"We have a deal." Jeff held out his hand, but Bullock simply turned away from it and entered the house.

~o~O~o~


	10. Hayley 5

Hayley was quiet when Bullock walked in, playing every part the unwilling, surly teenage daughter. She scoffed on cue as Bullock kissed Francine's hand and then hers, rolled her eyes as he and Stan exchanged banter about Steve's future as a CIA operative, and sighed heavily when Francine asked her to help set out dinner. it was an act that she had put on for so long that it came naturally to her, even in the wake of Bullock's freshly pressed suit, the way his shirt collar stood out crisply against his neck, his bold stance, and his deep, dangerous gaze. Hayley was fairly certain that her quickening heartbeat was audible as she disappeared into the kitchen with Francine.

"Why are we putting on this big dinner anyway?" Hayley whined as Francine handed her a covered tray.

"You know how your father is." Francine sighed.

"But why does it have to be like this? I mean, I feel like I'm in the 50's."

"Your father likes formal occasions to be traditional. You know that, Hayley. Besides. He's hoping that it inspires, I don't know, some kind of nostalgia or something for Bullock."

"That is so wrong." Hayley sighed, but turned and took the tray out into the living room. Bullock was by himself, sitting at the head of the table.

"Hayley." Bullock said, looking up.

"Pardon my reach, Director Bullock." Hayley said, stretching to place the tray in the center of the table. Right as she set it down, Bullock casually reach up and trailed his fingers along the back of her thigh.

"Avery!" She hissed, eyes wide. Bullock chuckled.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He asked, voice not as quiet as Hayley would have preferred.

"Not in front of my parents, okay?" She said, being unable to help smiling back at his cocky smirk, "Later."

"I'll save you a seat." Bullock said, touching the chair angled next to him. She rolled her eyes and smiled, before returning to the kitchen.

Together Hayley and Francine got the table all set as Stan returned from the basement, holding a bottle of brandy. He and Bullock shared a few easy drinks and Francine brought out a bottle of wine and a 20oz of Sprite for Steve. They all took their places, Stan and Bullock laughing together about something that had happened in the office, before Stan said a quick grace and Francine began serving from the trays.

Hayley tried to keep her eyes off Bullock, but it was a favor which he was not returning. Every time she looked up he was either glancing at her, or referencing her in conversation, giving himself an excuse to stare. She blushed under the attention, a fact she didn't think her family noticed until she turned to her side and caught Steve's eye. A dumbstruck expression of mild horror was written across her brother's face, and when the conversation turned from the Smith brood's education back to goings on at the CIA, Hayley used the break to excuse herself and Steve to the kitchen.

"What?" She demanded in a hushed whisper, turning on her brother as soon as they were far enough away from the living room.

"Hayley, are you having an affair with Dad's boss?" Steve asked, his voice high and frightened. Hayley swallowed down a lump in her throat and clasped her brother's face in her hands.

"Don't say a word. Don't say a damn word." She hissed, glancing back at the living room. Steve let out a strangled sound as Hayley pressed his face tighter, "Okay, how did you find out?"

"Wrophjer." Steve spluttered, his lips pressed out like a fish from the pressure of Hayley's palms. She let go and Steve brought up a hand to massage his face, "Roger told me." He said, "A few weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" Hayley said incredulously.

"I needed some blackmail material on you." Steve said, straightening out his suit coat self-importantly. Hayley raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think you understand how blackmail works."

"Shut up, Hayley." Steve said, "Besides, we're not the only ones who know."

"What?" Hayley asked, her heart dropping. Surely if her parents knew they would have said something?

"I told Jeff." Steve announced proudly. Hayley relaxed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Oh. Wow. Terrified." She said, glaring at her brother, "Just, keep your mouth shut and your eyes on your food, okay? If Mom and Dad catch you staring at me like a freak they might just finally lock you up."

"Hayley, it's so gross though!" Steve said, suddenly pleading. Hayley shook her head.

"You are such a baby, you know that?"

"But why him, Hayley? He's practically as old as Pop-Pop!"

"I can't explain it, Steve. I just... I like him, okay? Just leave us alone. Please." She stared pleadingly at her brother before turning around and leaving him in the kitchen.

* * *

"That was a lovely dinner, Francine." Bullock announced, smiling at the Smith matron. Francine waved her hand dismissively at him, giggling lightly.

"I do my best." She said, "Hayley, would you mind helping me with the dishes?"

Hayley stood from her seat and began gathering dishes, at which Bullock stood too.

"Allow me to help you, Hayley." Bullock said, reaching over for Stan's plate.

"Oh, no sir. Let the women get it! It's why they were put on this earth!" Stan laughed.

"Nonsense, Smith, "Bullock said, "Where I come from it's only proper for the guests to help with cleaning up after dinner."

"England?" Steve asked.

"Georgia." Bullock replied with a raised eyebrow, before following Hayley into the kitchen. She dropped her handful of dishes in the sink before turning and coming face-to-face with Avery.

"Bullock," She murmured uneasily, stealing a glance at the living room. Bullock hooked his finger under her chin and angled her face up for a soft kiss. Heat rose in Hayley's face and she dropped her head. "My family could see us…"

"I'm not sure that I care too much." Bullock said, raising a hand and caressing her neck with his knuckles. She felt a chill work up her spine and she pulled him lightly into the corner of the dining room where the family wouldn't be able to turn their heads and see them. Avery studied her face before taking up her mouth again, pressing her lightly into the wall behind her. He reached for her hands and their fingers laced together as he brought her arms up, pinning them to the wall. He broke the kiss and ran his lips down her cheek, pressing them into her neck and sucking softly. She sighed at this and felt herself stir. Her head began to swim, but she was brought immediately back by Stan's voice.

"Hey, where did you go?"

Bullock broke away from Hayley. She thought quickly and turned toward the corner, crouching down.

"What are you doing?" Stan asked, his voice confused.

"I thought I saw a mouse in here, Dad." Hayley said, touching the baseboard with her fingertips. Stan gasped, horrified, and approached them.

"Sir, I assure you that my house does _not_ have mice!" Stan said, taking Avery by the shoulders and guiding him out of the kitchen. When he was sure that Avery was safely in the living room, he rushed back to Hayley's side and whispered in her ear, "Get the trap out of the cupboard, that little fucker's reign is at an end."

Hayley's eyes widened in surprise, but she just nodded and approached the cupboard. As she was fishing the trap out of the back, she heard a knock on the door.

"Who is that?" Stan asked, his annoyance evident. Hayley heard him approach the front door. She rounded the corner just as Stan opened it.

"Hey, Mr. S." Jeff said, "There's something I need to say."

"Jeff!?" Hayley said incredulously, crossing the living room swiftly and standing next to her dad.

"Hayley! I need to tell you something!" Jeff said, stepping into the house, "I love you! You don't need to be with Mr. Bullet."

"What the hell are you talking about, Jeff?" Hayley asked, before the realization hit her like a brick.

"Mr. Bullet!" Jeff said, gesturing toward Avery, "You don't need to be with him anymore. I'll take you back, babe!"

"Hayley, what is going on here?" Stan asked, glancing between her, Jeff, and Bullock.

"Jeff, you're high." Hayley said, pushing on his shoulder to guide him out of the house, "Director Bullock is my father's boss, he's here for a dinner party. You're confused. Go sleep it off."

"I'm not confused, Hayley!" Jeff demanded, standing firm against her hand. She was surprised at his standoff, but even more surprised when he stepped forward and took Hayley's face in his hands, pressing his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss.

~o~O~o~


	11. Avery 5

A fire rose in Bullock's chest as he watched Jeff dip Hayley into that kiss. It was a feeling that surprised him. He liked the girl well enough, it was true, and he had been confident that she would choose him over that skunky, wheedling little boy. However… it was something about seeing them together, seeing someone else press their lips to Hayley's, seeing the act of defiance straight in his face, and feeling the fear that he may, for once, be wrong. He stood from the table, his palms pressed flat.

Jeff released Hayley, who took a step back and pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Jeff," She said, her voice filled with warning.

"Smith!" Bullock interjected, "Who is this boy, and why must we play witness to these adolescent flirtations?"

"I'm sorry, Sir!" Stan said, pressing the flat of his large palm to Jeff's chest and attempting to push him out the door, "he's just a squatter I've put up with for far...too...long!" He grunted with the effort of shoving Jeff out, but Jeff resisted, and eventually wormed out of Stan's hand and deeper into the house.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr. S-" Jeff said, staring Stan down, "But Hayley's been having an affair with your boss, Mr. Bullet." He pointed to Avery,

"What do you mean, Jeff?" Stan asked, thoughts working violently behind his face. He glanced from Bullock to Hayley. Avery mentally shook himself, preparing for the admission. He had wanted to bring it to light before, but respected Hayley's wishes enough not to. He had always secretly hoped they would be caught together, a fact evidenced by his lack of locking the office door, or approaching her in highly public situations, and even now he felt relief in preparing to admit his affections for the Smith daughter. He opened his mouth to address Stan, but was interrupted by Hayley.

"Jeff," Hayley reprimanded, wagging a finger at him, "This has nothing to do with that dream you had. Get a hold of yourself."

"But, babe-"

"You need to get out. Okay? I'll talk to you later, but right now you need to leave. For me."

She stared him down, her eyes steady and intense. Jeff watched her for a moment, then faded under the look.

"Okay, babe." He said, then shuffled toward the door.

The whole family watched him exit, then turned to Hayley.

"He once had a dream that I cheated on him with that paper towel mascot." She laughed uneasily, "Doesn't Bullock looks like him a little bit?"

Stan stared down his daughter, then slowly shifted his gaze to Bullock. After a moment of contemplation. he grinned widely.

"He does! With the utmost respect, Sir." Stan said, "That is my favorite brand of paper towels."

Avery's brows knitted and he looked toward Hayley who was shifting uncomfortably under her family's gaze.

"Hayley-" he began, but she cut him off.

"I'm very sorry about that, Director Bullock." She said, holding her hands in front of her, "Jeff is a little unstable, and gets confused easily. It won't happen again." She stared at him, her eyes pleading.

 _I should tell them right now._ Avery thought, the urge pressing to the very forefront of his mind, _I should tell them exactly what's been happening, and they can all be damned. Why should she want to hide this?_

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed.

"Very well, Hayley. All is forgiven, as long as you can promise that he will never bother me again." He raised an eyebrow, making sure his meaning was completely clear. He saw Hayley blush, then nod. Bullock sat down, brushing off his suit coat absently, before turning back to Stan.

"Where is that brandy?"

~o~O~o~


	12. Hayley 6

As the clock struck ten, Avery stood from his spot and turned toward Stan.

"You and your family have given me a lovely evening, Smith." Bullock said, "But it is getting late, and some of us have missions in the morning." He nudged Stan lightheartedly.

"Yes, sir!" Stan said, standing straight and saluting Bullock. Stan made the family line up to give their farewells, and when Avery took Hayley's hand for the polite kiss, she could feel him slip something into her palm.

"Wonderful to see you all again." He said. His gaze lingered on Hayley for a moment before he turned toward the front door Stan had opened for him. The men fell into a small conversation about work the next day as Francine guided her children in assisting her with cleaning up the kitchen. As Hayley put on the apron her mother had handed her, she slipped the note into her bra. As Francine turned her attentions to putting away the extra food, Hayley and Steve took their places at the sink to tandem-wash the dishes. Steve didn't say anything to her and kept his eyes on his task. Hayley would need to find some time to talk to her brother, to explain her side. Maybe that's all it would take?

When Hayley came back out, Bullock was gone and Stan was moving the dining room table back where it belonged.

"I'm going to bed, Dad." She said, swiping her arm around her dad's shoulders and planting a small peck on his cheek.

"All right, honey." Stan said. It seemed normal, but there was something weird about his tone of voice. Since he said nothing else, though, she figured there wasn't anything she could do or say, so she stepped lightly up the stairs.

She closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked, before reaching into her dress and pulling out the note.

 _We need to talk. Come to my house tonight_

Hayley's heart dropped in her chest. Stupid, damn Jeff. Why did he always have to come in and ruin everything for her? It would have been perfectly fine if he hadn't come barging in with his ridiculous half-baked threats. What a bastard! No, she wasn't going to let Jeff ruin this. She wasn't going to let him ruin the one thing in her life that had been going so well.

She grabbed her cell phone off her desk and opened Avery's contact.

 _ **Me**_

 _I'll be there_

She waited a moment to see if he would reply, but nothing came. With an even deeper sinking feeling, she stripped off the fancy dress and replaced it with her usual jeans and tank. If she was going to sneak out of the house, she'd rather not try to navigate it in heels.

~o~O~o~


	13. Jeff

He was in a submarine. He was arguing with the captain because he wouldn't return to the surface, even though Jeff needed to. He couldn't remember why he needed to, he just knew that the captain looked like that Bullet guy and he had a stupid face. He was about to punch him when the hull of the submarine suddenly crushed in on one side and there was a loud, incessant banging sound. It just kept going and going and going…

Jeff sat up groggily, the sound of metallic banging echoing all around him. He sat up from the sleeping bag and reached out for the van's door handle, pulling it back weakly. Hayley grabbed the door and opened it all the way. He couldn't see her face, cast in shadow as it was by the light behind her.

"Hey, Hayley." Jeff said, blinking the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. Hayley crawled into the van, pulling the door closed behind her. She sat crouched for a moment before she reached out and slapped Jeff across the face.

"Ow! What-?" Jeff said, stunned. He felt his cheek and shook his head.

"What the hell was that all about?" Hayley demanded, her voice low. Jeff sat up fully, pushing the sleeping bag aside.

"What? You mean," Jeff rubbed at his eyes, "the dinner thing?"

"Jeff, I dumped you. What right do you have to go blabbing all over about my personal life?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"But, babe-"

"I'm not your babe."

"But Hayley," Jeff pleaded, "That guy is so wrong for you! He's so old, and mean. You don't need him."

"So I need someone like you?" Hayley asked incredulously. Jeff faltered for a moment, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. He wished he was better with words, he wished he could tell Hayley exactly what she meant to him. He loved her, he loved her more than he had ever loved anybody before, but that guy… that guy didn't love her. There was no way that guy could love her the way Jeff did. He searched his mind for the right words, the right thing he could say to make Hayley see his point.

"Hayley-" he started.

"No, Jeff. We're done. We're over." She said. She reached behind her to open the van door and stepped out backwards, "And if you ever say anything to my family about me and Bullock, you'll lose more than just an ex-girlfriend."

"I'm sorry!" He called out, crawling toward the door. Hayley pressed her palm firmly against his shoulder and shoved him back. sliding the van door into place. The shove slammed Jeff into the other side of the van and he sat still for a moment, nursing the sore spot on the back of his head. She was so strong, he admired that about her. He admired a lot about her, but she was making a mistake- why couldn't she see that? When the world stopped spinning, Jeff opened the door to the van and stepped out. His intention was to sneak up to her room the way he used to when they first started dating. He started sneaking onto the lawn, when a movement caught the corner of his eye. Looking down the street, he saw Hayley. Where… where could she be going at this time of night?

With a glance back at the van, Jeff shook himself and started following her. He could be sneaky when he needed to be, and he had a feeling that if Hayley caught him she would be more than willing to make good on her threat.

* * *

Hayley's walk had taken them to a wealthy part of town, a part of town that Jeff hadn't even known was here, let alone visited before. Hayley seemed confident in her navigation, this was a place that she was very familiar with. Did the Smiths have a rich family member that she was going to visit? _That's stupid, Jeff_. He told himself, but his mind worked tirelessly to come up with some kind of explanation, everything except the painfully obvious.

The house she walked up to was very large and elegant, the mahogany double doors illuminated through the etched glass panels. She didn't knock, as Jeff expected, but reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. She looked around just briefly, her eyes sweeping over the bush Jeff was hiding in, but obviously saw nothing as she casually unlocked and opened the front door.

Jeff held his breath, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did. After a while, the light in the foyer turned off, plunging the front of the house into darkness, but there was still light along the left side. Jeff cast a glance around, then snuck deeper into the front yard. He approached the front door slowly, taking in the etched wood plaque above the front door.

 _Bullock_

Well, at least it wasn't Stan's boss. Maybe Hayley had listened to him after all. But still…

Against his better judgement, Jeff started around the house, toward the window that was still illuminated. The curtains covering the window were thin, allowing the light to slip past onto the grass outside, but there was one sliver of space that Jeff could see in. He pressed his face to the opening, and his heart sunk.

Hayley was sitting next to Stan's boss on the couch. His arm was around her shoulder, caressing it gently, and she was clinging onto him like a child. Her legs were slung over one of his, and his other hand was hooked into the back of her knee. His face was resting on her forehead, and they were talking. Every so often, he would press his lips to her forehead, and he saw Hayley blush and smile. They stayed like that for a long time, just talking and cuddling, until Hayley raised her head and Stan's boss pulled her into a deep kiss. He shifted her downwards and began playing at the edge of her tank with his fingertips. Jeff made an involuntary sound, bringing a hand against the glass in an effort to will Hayley away from that man. Hayley hadn't noticed anything, but Jeff saw Bullock open his eyes and pull away from her briefly. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced around the room. Jeff saw Hayley's mouth move. Jeff was about to pull away from the window when his eye caught Bullock's. It was brief, it was small, but it was the clearest moment in Jeff's life. Despite his legs cramping after kneeling next to the window for so long, he stood shakily and broke into a full out run.

Hayley was having an affair with Stan's boss.

Stan's boss had seen Jeff.

And Jeff was assured, above anything else, that Avery Bullock was going to kill him.

~o~O~o~


	14. Avery 6

Avery Bullock held his cell phone in his hand, eyes sweeping over Hayley's message as he waited on the couch. It was stupid to ask her to come over tonight. In the heat of the moment he had scrawled out the note and pressed it to her palm, but it was getting later and later, and he _was_ due at work the next day. His job required a certain amount of concentration, after all, and ever since starting this thing with Stan's daughter in earnest, he hadn't been giving anything in his life the concentration it deserved. That is, except her.

He really should have seen it earlier. This reckless devotion to her. He had allowed it to interrupt his work, his life, his sleep even. Hayley had her fingers wrapped around everything in his life, and he hadn't even noticed. To be honest, she probably hadn't even noticed. It was slow, it was subtle. She was a desperately needed escape that had become his lifeline, and he was sure she felt the same about him. The biggest difference was this; in order to keep her, he needed to let their relationship be public, but in order to keep him, she needed it to be secret. So now he was faced with it. Could he let himself remain her dirty secret, or did he need to let her go?

He glanced over the words again before setting the phone down. It had been too long, she wasn't coming. He was glad. She had abandoned him, she had made it easy for him, she was- coming through the front door.

He heard the lock click, the door brush open, and then close. He heard the distinct shuffle of Hayley pulling off her shoes and setting them next to his elephant foot umbrella holder, then the soft padding of her feet as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the living room.

"Hello, Avery." She said. Her arms were crossed in front of her, less a stance of defiance than one of protection. Avery smiled kindly and beckoned her into the living room. He sat down and she took her place next to him, her eyes searching the ground.

"Come here." He said, reaching around her shoulder and pulling her in close. She leaned in and he reached under her legs to lift them onto his lap, to which she replied by bringing up her arms to wrap diagonally across his torso. She rested her head into the crook of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about tonight." She said, her voice low and soft. Bullock smiled softly and pressed his cheek to her forehead.

"It was a tense situation, and no one acted appropriately." He said.

"I don't know what got into Jeff." She said. He could feel her fingers tighten against his shoulder, he assumed she hadn't meant to say the boy's name.

"Hayley," He said, "Who is he to you?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"The boy seems so protective, but you both said that you've broken it off. Why is he still hanging around? Do you-" He couldn't say it, couldn't bring the words to his lips. He had never brought the concept to himself before, the possibility of _loving_ her.

"No, I mean… I don't."

"Did you?" Avery asked, pulling her in tighter, "Love him, I mean."

"I… I don't know. I mean, it's just something that we would say but… it never felt _real._ You know? It always felt like, I don't know, hello or goodbye. I didn't really… it's not like with you."

"What about with me?" He asked, raising one eyebrow softly. He felt Hayley let out a long, soft breath against his chest. _I might love her_. He thought to himself, his heart feeling like a rock in his chest, _I haven't felt like that about anyone since I met my wife…_

Hayley breathed against him for a long pause, before she spoke again.

"I think I might love you, Avery. I don't know, because I don't think I've ever actually been in love before. I mean… I've always had crushes and boyfriends and everything, but… this is different. This feels more… raw."

"You need to be sure, Hayley." Avery said, "Because I am not afraid to admit that my feelings for you have… they've changed since that first night." She looked up at him, her eyes full of fear. He couldn't help but chuckle softly at her expression. "I mean for the better, Hayley."

She dropped her head, pulling herself deeper into his arms.

"I don't know what to think, Avery." She said, "I'm just… I feel lost right now."

"I need to ask you something." Avery said, then paused a moment. He was searching for the right words, and trying to decide if he even wanted this question answered. Maybe he was overthinking it. What was wrong with having an ongoing fling with this girl? She was into it, maybe they were both getting too involved. Perhaps they just needed to step back, or maybe he just needed to ask her his question. "Why are you keeping me a secret?"

There was a long moment of silence, neither one of them moving or speaking. After a minute or so, he felt Hayley's thumb move gently alongside his neck.

"I don't know." She said, "I guess… I mean, I always told myself that it was so my father couldn't use our relationship as the reason he got that promotion… it wasn't, was it?"

"Hayley, your dad has been first on the list for that promotion for _months_." Avery said, "The man is paranoid, but no matter what you did or did not do, it would not have affected his job." He looked down at Hayley. She was so young, so so young. What, eighteen? She was experienced for her age, but perhaps in the wake of her sexual prowess he had overlooked other aspects of her. "Are you ashamed of me, Hayley?"

"No, Avery!" She said, looking up into his face, "I am an independent, modern woman, and I am capable of deciding who I want to l… be with." she corrected herself awkwardly, face flushing. Avery found himself smiling and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"So you are." He looked down into her eyes, glancing over her upturned face, before pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss. She moaned lightly into his mouth and he shifted downwards, pressing her into the soft couch. He brought his hand down, reaching in under her tank, when there was the sound of tapping on glass. He lifted his head, glancing quickly around the room.

"Is everything okay?" Hayley asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

"I think-" Avery began, then stopped when his eye reached the window. Through the slight split in the curtain, he saw a face. A face he recognized. A face that belonged to Jeff Fischer.

~o~O~o~


	15. Hayley 7

"What's going on?" Hayley asked, attempting to push herself up by the elbows. Avery's eye was trained intensely on the window across from them, but when she glanced over she couldn't see anything.

"Do you want me to pull the curtains tighter?" She asked, confused. Avery closed his eyes, squeezing them shut for a brief moment, before turning back to her.

"No, no… I just… I thought I saw something." He said, his voice unsure. Hayley brought her hand up to cup his cheek, feeling the stubble that had begun to sprout since he had shaved early this morning. He covered her hand with his, holding her palm against his cheek, and searched her eyes.

"Hayley," He said, "I don't know… I don't know that I can be with you if you still care about Jeff."

"What?" She asked.

"I won't… I won't make you tell anyone about us. You can keep what we have secret, but… I need to know that you are completely done with Jeff. I need to know that he doesn't matter to you at all."

"Avery," Hayley said, snaking one hand behind his head and pulling him closer to her, "Jeff doesn't mean anything to me. Nothing at all."

"You swear?" He asked. She tossed her head back in a chuckle before lifting her hips, grinding herself against him.

"What, do you want me to prove it?"

"Oh, please do."

* * *

Hayley stepped into the bathroom, wiping sleep from her eyes. She smiled at the feeling of the heated tile under her bare feet, the warmth from the marble seeping into her toes as she approached the counter. She looked ragged. She hadn't washed off her makeup last night so her eyes were smeared and looked like she hadn't slept in days. Well, to be fair, she hadn't slept in days, but she could handle it. She took one of Avery's washcloths and wetted it with cool water before pressing it to her face.

She had lied last night. She knew that now. In the moment with Avery, everything else seemed to melt away. She forgot who she was, she forgot who her father was, and who Stan was to Bullock. She lost her inhibitions and was consumed, wholly and fully, with Avery and his happiness. But she had lied. She did still care about Jeff. She knew that, she had always known that. It was a difficult thing to admit, even to herself. She didn't know if she loved him, she didn't know if she _loved_ anyone, but Jeff had been the only person she'd been able to picture having a future with.

From that first moment that he had asked her out, that skinny little teenager stealing sheepish glances at her in the high school cafeteria, to the nights that he spent in her room, both before and after Francine and Stan found out, he had seemed permanent. Her father had been furious, but had grudgingly come to accept Jeff as a fixture in Hayley's life the longer the relationship wore on. Even as dissatisfied as she got with Jeff and his mindless acquiescence, she still cared about him. Every time she broke up with him they got back together, and he never once strayed to some other girl. She had never shown him the same loyalty, had never needed to. He was always there.

She set the washcloth down, studying her clean face in the mirror. There was a difference there, different from what she saw, what she felt, between the two men. Jeff was her age, but felt so much younger. He was really like a child, and she considered herself a kind of guardian, like a mother figure. She took control in the relationship, guided him in everything. What to say, what to think, how to touch her. There was nothing he did on his own, nothing that he came up with alone. He took no risks, made no sacrifices, but he was there. He was loyal, and he loved her with all of himself.

Avery, on the other hand, was so much different. Older, bolder, experienced. In many ways he guided Hayley, but it wasn't the same. He didn't tell her what to believe, he merely questioned her choices, made her think more deeply about herself and what she took seriously in her life. He knew the questions to ask, the things to say, the ways to be, that made her a different person, but… there was something about him. An underlying danger. They shared the same fire, the same passion, but his was an older anger, a more matured and focused emotion. He had carried his for a long time, and it was present in him not only when they were together, but in other ways when he was in public too. He could be violent, she could feel that in him, and though his violence had never turned on her, she wasn't sure that it wouldn't be expressed soon, and possibly on Jeff.

In the bedroom behind her she heard the alarm clock start to beep, followed by a groan and the slap of a hand against hard plastic. She heard the sheets rustle, and the sound of Avery shuffling into the bathroom behind her.

"You're up early." He said, stepping behind her and wrapping his hands around her belly. She leaned slightly into him, feeling the broadness of his shoulders envelop her. He pressed his lips to her jaw before releasing her and walking to the shower stall.

"You're working today?" She asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes, there's a mission debrief that I must attend." He started the water.

"I'd best be getting home." Hayley said, shying back a bit. Avery looked at her a moment before saying, "Would you like me to drive you?"

"Home?" She asked incredulously.

"Well I mean, your father will be at work already. I told him to get everything prepared. I'm sure your mother won't even notice-"

"No, that's okay. I'd prefer to walk. Exercise, you know." She laughed uncomfortably. Avery frowned slightly.

"I could drop you off at the end of the block. I worry about you, after all."

"No need to worry." She said, waving off his concern, "I'll be okay."

"Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure." She said, then came up and pressed herself against him, catching the back of his head to pull him into a kiss. He brought his hand up to rest lightly on her shoulders before she pulled away again. "I'll start coffee for you." She said. He smiled wanly then stepped into the shower.

Hayley collected her clothes from Avery's bedroom floor before putting them back on slowly, concentrating only on the feeling of putting them on. She didn't want to think anymore. She was in over her head. She didn't know what to do, and she knew that Jeff's van would still be outside her house. He would see her walking down the street, and he would have questions. She didn't want to answer anything, didn't want to talk, she just wanted to go home, smoke a joint, and go to bed.

She could hear the faintest whisper of the shower from the front door. She stood there a moment, hand resting on the mahogany front door, as she took in the sight of Avery's living room. The couch where they had first initiated the affair, the bar that they had sat at several evenings and talked through life, though their beliefs, and who they were. The kitchen where she had shared more breakfasts with Avery than her own family, and the indentation in the drywall from where Avery had pushed it back with that first, passionate, angry kiss.

"I love you, Avery." She said to the emptiness of the room before turning and closing the door behind her.

~o~O~o~


	16. Avery 7

He had expected Hayley to at least stay with him through breakfast, but a quick sweep of his room told him that she had already gone. He dressed quickly and efficiently, straightening his tie in the dresser mirror, before turning to make his way to the garage.

She was his. Even if he could not say that he loved her, even if they couldn't bring themselves to that admission, she was his. He had not felt so strongly for a woman since he had met Miriam, and even then, this was different. Hayley was different. She was wild, she was intelligent, she was everything that Avery had always needed, but never realized. Her youth invigorated him in ways that he didn't realize were still possible. There was only one problem.

 _Jeff Fischer._

Hayley professed to no longer care about him. As much as Avery wanted to believe her, he knew that she was probably lying. There was a history there, that much he knew. Enough of a history that Stan was content to allow Jeff to stay parked outside of his home. Something needed to be done there. And soon.

* * *

"Smith!" Avery said, his voice booming across the conference room. The crowd went silent and Stan stood up, body held erect under Avery's steady glare.

"Come here, Smith." Avery said. The white-faced man stepped out of the row he was sitting in and followed Bullock into the hallway.

"Sir, if this is about last night-"

"It is, Smith." Bullock said, "I want to know who exactly that hoodlum was."

"Who, Jeff?" Stan asked, his shoulders dropping a bit, "Oh, he's a harmless kid."

"Harmless to some." Bullock said, eyebrow raised, "How do you know he doesn't have surveillance on your home? You'll find you have new enemies now, Deputy Deputy Director."

"Jeff? Oh, no, sir. He can't navigate his way out of a cell phone lock screen. He and my daughter have had an on-and-off thing for years."

"Is that why you allow him to squat outside your home like it's an RV campsite?" Avery snapped.

"Sir, with all due respect, he's just some stupid stoner kid my daughter has a thing for. I don't understand why you are so upset about it."

"Because-" Avery said, taking Stan's shoulder in a guiding gesture, "Jeff may seem like just a harmless squatter, but if the wrong people get to him, well, he's trusted to be in your house, no?"

"Sir?"

"If you saw Jeff, say, in your kitchen, you wouldn't have any second thoughts. Am I correct?"

"Well, I guess, I mean… technically-"

"See? So if, say, a terrorist cell got ahold of Jeff and brainwashed him, or even planted an incendiary device on him without his knowledge, Well, that's just not a very responsible situation you've set up for yourself."

"So what can we do about it, Sir?" Smith asked, "His van is broken down, and Hayley-"

"Smith, your daughter is very young. Men will come and go in her life, do you really want her spending any more time with this Jeff Fischer?"

"Well… he's not an ideal match for her by any means-"

"Stan, have you forgotten? We're the CIA!" Bullock said, pulling the younger man close in a conspiratorial half-hug, "We can _make_ people disappear."

"So you're saying-"

"Yes. For your sake, and your family's. It really is a matter of security."

"I'm not sure-"

"Smith." Bullock said, removing his hand, "It's your duty to yourself, your family, and your country to keep yourself safe. It's one of the responsibilities of your elevated position here in the CIA. If you are telling me that I can't trust you to-"

"No, no!" Stan said, eyes wide, "No, of course! Of course we can get rid of Jeff! That's not what I meant! Only... I just don't know how to do it without raising Hayley's suspicion. I mean, you saw him at the dinner last night."

'Yes," Bullock said, his eyes searching the ground, "I did see him last night." Bullock thought to himself for a moment, before raising his head, smiling widely, and clapping Stan on the back.

"Leave it to me Smith. Don't make any moves yet, but I trust you'll know what to do when the time is right."

"Erm… yes, Sir." Stan said, his voice full of confusion, before Bullock walked around the younger man and into the conference room.

He _had_ seen Jeff last night. He had met Jeff's eye and the boy had run like the coward he was. If he played his cards right, half of his job was already done. There was just the matter of Hayley.

~o~O~o~


	17. Hayley 8

Hayley groaned, sitting up from her bed and pressing a hand to her forehead. What a hell of a night she'd had. What a hell of a month it had been. She felt like she had lived an entire year in the past thirty days. She shook her head and looked at her clock, the small box blinking an accusatory '01:29 PM' at her. It wasn't too bad, really. It was, what, 8am when she had snuck back into the house? Tiptoed past a still-sleeping Francine, washed the smell of him from her body, and sank into her own bed, dead to the world. There were soft murmurs coming from the basement and Hayley pressed her feet into carpet, feeling more ready to face her family than she had in the last month.

Stan was still at work, Steve not due home for another two and a half hours, but Francine was in the kitchen, bantering with Roger as she chopped something up for dinner that evening. Hayley walked in casually, greeting the two of them with a smile as she reached for the fridge handle.

"Mornin' Sunshine." Roger drawled from across the table, his chin resting on his hand, "Sleep well last night?"

"As good as any." Hayley replied dryly.

"How is Bullock?" Francine asked.

Hayley went pale.

"I told you, Francine." Roger said, his voice sounding triumphant. Hayley's eyes shot to her mother, searching the woman's face.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Hayley, drop the act." Francine said, "Or learn some subtlety." She shook her head, but was obviously amused.

"I-"

"Francine told me all about it this morning." Roger said, leaning toward Francine conspiratorially, "When you weren't making out in the kitchen you were groping each other with your eyes." He brought up a hand to pull one eyelid back, bugging out his eyeball in demonstration. Francine giggled, then turned and gestured toward Hayley with her knife.

"I know that there isn't a lot I can do about it, I had a weird feeling about you for the past month or so anyway," Francine chided, "But if you want to keep it a so-called secret for much longer, you're gonna have to do better than that. The only reason your dad didn't notice is because he has a bigger crush on Bullock than you do."

"You aren't going to tell him, are you?" Hayley asked, her heart heavy in her chest.

"Oh, God no." Francine said, " Are you crazy? Besides, he's got enough on his plate."

"This morning he-"

"Roger!" Francine hissed, brandishing the knife at the alien," Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Oh no, my acting class!" Roger said, standing suddenly, "I completely forgot!" He waddled out of the room, murmuring to himself all the way up the stairs. Francine flashed a smile at her daughter before turning around and continuing her chopping. Hayley raised an eyebrow at her mother's strange behavior, but decided not to question it. It was probably best not to annoy Francine, now that she realized her mother knew sensitive information.

Hayley returned to her room, shaken by her morning thus far. She had wanted some excitement in her life, and Avery had managed to give that to her, but it was starting to wear her thin. She was constantly on edge, questioning her behavior at every turn, and now her mother…

She reached under her bed for her box before she remembered that she was out. Great, another perfect piece in the bizarre puzzle that was her day thus far. Maybe Jeff would share some with her. She could probably tease it out of him, he was so desperate for her to turn from Avery. It wouldn't be hard to manipulate him, even if just for an ounce or two.

She started making her way downstairs, but was suddenly distracted by the sound of the front door opening.

"Hey, Mom." She could hear Steve's voice as he came home, his backpack hitting the floor with a thud.

"You're home early." Francine called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Brian let me go early for helping him out with some...stuff."

"I don't like you calling Principal Lewis by his first name, Steve." Francine said, "It's creepy."

"I'm not the creepy one around here," Steve murmured, but dismissed his mother when she asked him to repeat himself and started up the stairs. At the top, he came face-to-face with Hayley.

"Steve-"

"I don't want to talk to you." Steve said, pushing past his sister and beelining for his room.

"Steve!" Hayley reached out for his arm, catching his wrist momentarily in her fingers before he wrenched his hand free.

"Go away, Hayley. Or should I just tell Mom?"

"Mom knows." Hayley said before she could stop herself. Steve's eyes went wide, then he looked down.

"You're bluffing"

"Why would I lie?"

"So I won't tell her."

"Go ahead." Hayley said, gesturing toward the stairs, "She's right down there." Steve bit his lip, glancing back and forth between Hayley's face and the stairs, before his shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Steve, can we just talk?" Hayley asked.

"I just don't understand." Steve said, his eyes pleading in the way that little brothers had perfected, "He's an old man, and he's Dad's boss. What could you possibly even _see_ in him?"

"It's different when you're older." Hayley said, realizing that she didn't really have a good defense for her… relationship?

"Don't say that." Steve glowered, "Don't say that like you're a high-schooler dating a college guy. It's not like he's just a few years older, Hayley. He's gotta be sixty. At _least_. He was in college when Dad was _born_!"

"That's one of the reasons I like him so much-"

"Eww!"

"No! Damn it, Steve! You just- it's different with him. He's," Hayley was lost for words, searching the ground and feeling smaller every second, "He's just… he's a nice guy. And he likes me. A lot… he's treated me better than most guys have."

"But Jeff was nice, and your age." Steve said, the little-brother whine in the back of his throat.

"Jeff was… Jeff doesn't really have a personality, Steve." Hayley said, "Jeff is basically a trained monkey, he'll do whatever I tell him to. Bullock is different. He challenges me, he's sweet. I don't even notice his age anymore. To be honest, I don't think I noticed his age to begin with."

"I just don't think I can get used to this, Hayley." Steve said, his voice low. "You don't… you don't _love_ him, do you?"

Hayley looked at her brother, searching his wide eyes. _Yes I do_. she thought. It pressed at the forefront of her mind, attempted to guide her tongue, but her mouth remained closed. _I love him. I love him, and I'm in love with him. I don't know what's going to happen, or if he loves me back, but I do- I love Avery Bullock._

"I don't know." She said. It was Steve's turn to look away. They stood in the hallway in silence for a long moment before Steve turned away and entered his bedroom, shutting the door behind him softly. Hayley felt her heart drop. She didn't like to think that she needed her little brother's approval for anything she did, but it would have been nice to have at least a little bit of support, or to be able to adequately explain how she was feeling.

Then again, she didn't know how she was feeling.

She turned around and began down the stairs when the sound of Roger's frantic waddle caught up behind her and he brushed past.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Acting class." He huffed, "How about you? Back to Bullock's already?"

"No." Hayley said defensively, "As a matter of fact I was going to see Jeff."

"Good luck with that, sugartits." Roger scoffed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means Jeff is gone." Roger said, making a gesture of a puff of smoke.

"Gone?"

"This morning," Roger said, "Yer dad black-bagged him."

"Wait, what?" Hayley demanded.

"Oh yeah," Roger said, "Came home around 11 while you were sleeping, snuck outside in full stealth gear and tossed the little stoner in the back of the SUV."

Hayley's heart pounded in her chest. It must have been Avery, it _must have_. That's why he had been so insistent last night, why he had wanted to make sure she was completely done with Jeff. But why get Stan involved?

"Roger, I need you to take me to the CIA."

Roger hissed through his teeth, shaking his head and brushing off his lapels.

"No can do, Hayley. I'm late enough to my class as it is."

He felt himself being lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall, Hayley leaned forward, her face inches from his.

"Take. Me. To. The. C. I. A." She hissed. Roger's eyes widened, then he laughed uncomfortably and fished the car keys from his pocket.

"Whatever you say."

~o~O~o~


	18. Stan

The breaks on his SUV squeaked as he pulled around the back of the building. It was a sound he noted with some contempt, he would have to deal with that sooner than later. They'd probably find something else wrong and he'd be blowing another $1000 on this hunk of garbage. He pulled into the parking spot backwards, nearly touching the bumper of the SUV against the sliding door, before putting the vehicle in park. The figure in the back seat groaned.

"Shut up, Jeff." Stan said, his voice more biting than he anticipated. There was no way he could make the boy understand that this was for his own protection. Bullock had told him to wait, but Stan knew what Bullock was capable of, and if his boss really did suspect Jeff of something, even without any strong proof, the boy's life would be in danger. As little as he liked the younger man, Stan didn't want to see Jeff meet his fate at the business end of a sniper rifle.

Stan keyed in the code to the sliding door, watching as it opened and then turned toward the SUV. Tossing open the back door, he hooked his hands under Jeff's shoulders and pulled, dragging his body halfway out of the car before bending down and flinging him onto his shoulders. Stan had always been proud of his own strength. With Jeff tossed over his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he closed the door to the SUV and entered the room quickly.

It looked similar to a storage room and had only one large, heavy stainless steel door that connected it to the rest of the facility. Stan closed the sliding garage-style door quickly and set Jeff down in the center of the room. What was the best way to do this?

He grabbed a chair and drug it over to where Jeff was laying, groaning through the gag under the black canvas bag. He lifted Jeff onto the chair, cutting the zip ties that held the younger man's limbs together and instead retying him to the limbs of the chair. He slung Jeff's arms behind him and tied them to the chair as well, before finally sighing and wrenching the black bag off Jeff's head.

Jeff groaned and blinked in the sudden light, squeezing his eyes shut before squinting around. As he grew accustomed to his surroundings, Stan circled him and undid the gag, letting the wadded up fabric fall to the floor.

"M-Mr. S?" Jeff murmured, his voice filled with fear, "What… where are we?"

"Look, Jeff." Stan said, kneeling in front of the boy and putting a hand on his shoulder, "I'm not going to lie to you, and I'm going to ask for your full cooperation. Do you understand me?"

"Of course, Mr. S!" Jeff said, his eyes pleading, "But what is this for? Is it because of the dinner last night? Because I already talked to Hayley-"

"It's not the dinner, Jeff." Stan said, standing and crossing his arms, "Although that was very, very annoying. No, it's about the safety of my family." Stan turned, reaching behind his back and nestling one hand in his other. Half of this game was about show, after all, and even though he questioned the necessity of interrogating Jeff, he knew that he would have to employ only the lightest tactics before the boy would squeal. Perhaps Bullock was right after all. If Jeff knew any sensitive information about the Smiths, it wouldn't take much to get it out of him.

"Are you guys in danger?" Jeff asked, his voice full of concern.

"That's what I need to find out." Stan glanced sideways at Jeff, then raised his hand high in preparation to strike. Jeff cried out and cowered as best he could, leaning over his legs. Stan sighed and dropped his arm, pressing his fingers in his temple.

"Okay, Jeff. Here's the thing. I've been promoted to a very high position here in the CIA, and my boss thinks that you could pose a threat to my family."

"Me? How do I pose a threat?" Jeff asked

"I don't know." Stan said, crossing his arms, but keeping a firm stance looming over Jeff, "Does Bullock have any reason not to trust you?"

"Of course he does!" Jeff shouted. The outburst had startled Stan, but he kept his composure.

"Oh?"

"No, I mean, last night. Mr. S. At the dinner thing?" Jeff said, his eyes searching the ground frantically. The boy was backpedaling, why was he so flustered?

"The dinner has nothing to do with anything." Stan said, "Unless you had an ulterior motive for entering my home last evening."

"An alternate what?" Jeff asked, prompting Stan's sigh again.

"Why _did_ you burst in on my dinner last night? Were you high like Hayley accused?"

"No, Mr. S. I mean, not any more than usual…" His voice lowered, "I just… I don't like that Bullock guy."

"What does my boss have to do with it?"

Jeff kept his eyes down but said nothing.

"Jeff. Jeff!" Stan bent and grasped the younger man by the shirt, yanking him up and lifting the chair from the ground for a moment, "You need to tell me what you know."

"I said it all last night." Jeff said, "But I promised Hayley I couldn't- I wouldn't."

"What did you say last night? You came in and said something about a dream with a paper towel mascot-"

"No, that's what Hayley said. That was her excuse."

"What?" Stan released Jeff, then leaned down again, coming eye-to-eye with the younger man.

"Oh God, Mr. S. Please don't tell Hayley I told you any of this." Jeff said, "I promised her I wouldn't, she threatened me- I just don't want to lose her."

"She's already broken up with you." Stan said, "Nothing you say to me will make her change her mind, but it might save your life."

"My life?" Jeff said, his eyes bugging out of his head.

"Bullock is very suspicious of you, and I'm afraid he's going to do something rash. He said it was for the safety of my family, I just need your side of it."

"Oh man, I knew it Mr. S. I knew he was going to kill me." Sweat had beaded over Jeff's forehead and the boy's eyes were filling with frantic tears.

"What are you talking about?" Stan demanded.

"I saw them last night. Mr. S! After the dinner!" Jeff sobbed. Stan sneered and lifted his hand, delivering a firm smack across the boy's face. It wasn't meant to hurt as much as startle, which it had. Jeff took in a few breaths, then looked straight in Stan's eyes. "After the dinner Hayley came to my van and told me to keep my mouth shut, then she went over to Bullock's house."

"Why would she go to Bullock's house?" Stan asked, furrowing his brows in contemplation, "You saw her? How do you know it was his house?"

"She had a key. She went inside then I snuck around and I saw them together, I saw them through the window."

"What were they doing?" Stan asked.

"Oh, come on Mr. S. Don't make me say any more. They were together... like, _together_." Jeff raised his eyebrows at the older man, trying to get him to understand. Stan stared into Jeff's eyes for a long moment before the final piece fit in his mind and the realization blossomed.

"Oh… oh God… OH GOD!"

~o~O~o~


	19. Avery 8

Bullock leaned back at his desk, sighing at the ceiling. He hated meetings, endless boring meetings. He almost wished for some kind of terrorist attack so he could get back out on the field, go on the offensive, not have to sit through another damn, boring, pointless meeting. He glanced at his watch. He had cut the gathering short, finding himself too preoccupied to give it his attention, and suggested they reconvene in a week or so. That gave him a few spare hours at least, a few hours where none of his employees would be vying for his attention.

His desk phone rang.

 _Or so I thought._ He told himself bitterly, toying with the idea of not answering the phone, but did so anyway.

"Bullock."

"Deputy Director," the voice of his secretary slithered through the receiver, "You have a guest here to meet you."

"I'm not expecting anyone." he said, "Who is it?"

"Hayley Smith?" She said, then heard her say over the receiver, "Did you mean your father?"

"No." Hayley's voice was strong, "I'm here for Bullock."

"Let her in." Bullock said, then hung up and unlocked his office door. He hadn't replaced the key in his desk before Hayley was in the office, door slammed behind her, fists grasping at his suit jacket.

"You utter _bastard._ " She hissed, pushing him back against a wall.

"My, my, Hayley. You're feisty all of a sudden." He chuckled.

"Don't you dare, don't you even dare." She glowered at him, "Where is Jeff?"

"Jeff?" Bullock's expression soured and he frowned, "What about Jeff?"

"My dad black-bagged him this morning. You told him to!"

 _Goddamn it, Smith._ Bullock thought, trying not to roll his eyes. He should have known better than to expect Stan to perform his part with any degree of subtlety. The man knew how to get a job done, but he was going to do it any way possible, and not always in the ideal manner.

"I did nothing of the sort." Avery said, placing his hands on Hayley's shoulders, "Why would I?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you?" Hayley spat back, "You were the one who was all over me last night about being done with Jeff. What was that all about?"

"Hmm, I _was_ 'all over you' last night." Bullock said, raising a smarmy eyebrow. He brought a hand softly to her waist, but she didn't move.

"Answer me, Avery!"

"Would you believe anything I told you?" Bullock said, "If I deny it you won't believe me, and if I say I had something to do with it, well, you've already made up your mind."

Hayley's fists relaxed, releasing his jacket and laying flat-palmed on his chest.

"You have nothing to do with this?" Hayley asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Hayley," Avery said, hooking his finger under her chin and pulling her face up, "I have nothing to do with your father taking Jeff."

Her eyes filled with tears. Bullock brought up his thumb and wiped her cheek before pulling her into his chest.

"I'm just scared for him." She said, "Avery, I'm sorry-"

"I know, Hayley." Bullock said, feeling his heart like a weight, "You still love him."

"No, I don't." She said, pulling away from him, "I still care about him. I mean, he's basically my best friend, but I don't love him." She brought up a hand to trace along his face, pressing her palm to his cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too."

She closed the gap between them, her kiss starting light and deepening as he clasped his arms around her. Not breaking the kiss, she loosened his arms and eased the jacket off his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor behind him, and he reached up and pulled the headband off her forehead. They made their way unsteadily to his desk, Avery brushing papers aside and scattering them across the ground before reaching under her thighs and lifting her onto the mahogany surface. He reached under her tank and pushed it up on her chest as she loosened his shirt from his trousers, undoing the buttons until it hung open on his torso. He unbuckled her belt and the button on her jeans, easing the fabric from her hips and tossing the garment to the side. She returned the favor and his pants pooled around his ankles.

"Your door-" she gasped against his mouth.

"No one is coming." Avery said, wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her hips closer. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding against him. He reached down and slid his underwear off, stepping out of them and his trousers, before Hayley loosened her legs and slipped out of her panties.

She was his, she was well and truly his. They had been able to say it after everything, to each other, and he knew that he had never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Miriam. Slowly, gently, he pushed himself inside her and she shivered in his arms.

"Avery." She moaned in his ear, pulling herself up and pressing her chest against him.

"Hayley," He returned the moan.

He was so preoccupied with the goddess in his arms that he hadn't noticed the movement on the security footage. He hadn't noticed the two figures brushing past the secretary, the approaching footsteps as they met their goal at the end of the hallway, right outside Bullock's office. He hadn't noticed when the handle had turned, but he _did_ notice when the door swung open.

"BULLOCK! Have you _OH DEAR GOD_!"

The boom of Stan Smith's voice rattled the interior of the office and he could feel Hayley stiffen in his arms. He stepped back, retrieving his trousers from the floor and pulling them up quickly. Hayley did the same, retrieving her panties and stepping into them as fast as she could. Stan stood in shock, his eyes wide, taking in the whole situation. Behind him Bullock could see Jeff Fischer.

"Stan." Bullock said, attempting to keep his composure. Next to him Hayley shot guilty glances between Avery and her father.

"B...Bullock…." Stan gasped, staring at the pair before him. Bullock was all too aware that his dress shirt was open, some of Hayley's old bruises not quite healed over his torso.

"I… I…" Stan continued to gape in horror and Jeff pushed forward, stepping in front of the other man.

"I told you, Mr. S!" He said, pointing an accusatory finger at Bullock.

"Jeff!" Hayley screamed, stepping forward. Jeff opened his arms, obviously expecting an embrace from Hayley, but was instead met with a fierce fist. The blow knocked Jeff to the ground and Bullock stepped forward, grasping Hayley's shoulders to keep her from kicking the felled young man.

"Don't touch her!" Stan said suddenly, reaching for his belt and pulling out his gun.

"A gun, Stan? Seriously?" Bullock asked, raising an eyebrow, but the younger man kept his eye trained and his arm steady. Bullock felt rage grow in his chest. He released Hayley and made a dive for his desk, pulling his own gun out of the drawer.

"Avery!" Hayley gasped in horror, taking in the two men with their guns trained on each other, "Dad, this is crazy!"

"Crazy?" Stan said, glancing at his daughter, "Crazy like you having an _affair_ with my _boss_?"

"Dad, please!" She pleaded, "This is _exactly_ why I didn't want you to know, I knew you'd overreact!"

"Come now, Hayley." Bullock said, "You know that his reaction is purely situational. He can't control his emotions very well after all."

"I can control my emotions just fine!" Bullock shouted, to which Avery raised a mocking eyebrow.

"You've pulled a gun on your boss, Stan."

"Because you were violating my daughter!" Stan demanded. Avery glanced to Hayley.

"Hayley, dear, were you being violated?"

"Avery-" Hayley warned, her face turning lobster red.

"I think it's obvious what was going on here." Bullock said, shifting his gaze back to Stan, "And, honestly, what's been going on for the better part of the summer."

"Hayley?" Stan looked to his daughter, his voice low.

"Dad, please." Hayley begged. At her feet, Jeff sat up and rubbed his jaw.

"I knew I should have gotten rid of you." Bullock sneered, pointing his gun toward Jeff.

"Bullock, NO!" Hayley screamed, diving for the gun. He swung it free of her reach, causing her to run into the wall of the office.

"Bullock!" Stan roared, taking another step toward Avery. Hayley stood up, pressing a hand to her forehead where it had hit the wall.

"Dad, you stop too!" She said, "This is absolutely insane!"

"I don't want to see you hurt, Hayley! You don't know Bullock like I do!"

"And what does that mean, Stan?" Bullock hissed back at his employee.

"Dad," Hayley interjected, "I never wanted it to go this far. It was just casual, just for fun, but then-"

"Babe," Jeff's voice wavered in the office as he stood, his eyes searching Hayley's, "Is he why you broke up with me?"

"No, it started after we broke up." She said, "You don't challenge me, Jeff. You are so acquiescent and malleable-"

"What's that mean?." Jeff said, hurt. Hayley groaned and Bullock laughed.

"Were you born stupid, Jeff Fischer, or did you just smoke all your brain cells out?"

"You shut up!" Jeff said, standing suddenly and puffing out his chest the way he had outside of Stan's house, "You're old and mean!"

"I'm shaking in my boots." Avery replied dryly.

"Avery, please put the gun down-" Hayley said, but Bullock didn't listen.

"Is there any way I am going to get you to see reason, Stan?" Bullock said, feeling the heat of furious anger rise in his face. How dare this man mock Bullock's authority in his own office? It doesn't matter what he was doing. Something in the back of his mind told him that he was being crazy, that this reaction wasn't normal, but Stan's hand wavered for a moment and Avery could feel himself touch the trigger on the gun.

"What are you doing?" Hayley screeched, seeing the small twitch in Avery's hand. He turned to her.

"This… this is crazy." He said, turning toward Stan, "This is insanity. We can talk this out like civilized gentlemen."

"Bullock-" Stan said, a warning in his voice.

"We'll put our guns down at the same time, Smith." Avery offered, to which Stan nodded slowly.

As the men lowered their defenses, Jeff glanced at the gun, then at Hayley, and dove for Avery.

"JEFF!" Hayley screamed, and reached for the gun at the same time.

The shot was deafening.

~o~O~o~


	20. Jeff 2

His vision swam, a blur of white, peach, blue, and black. He blinked a few times, each time his vision getting clearer, until he remembered where he was.

"H… Hayley?"

"Hey, Jeff." Hayley smiled, taking his hand in hers.

"Hey… how… how did it go?"

"Good." She said, "They're thinking you'll make a full recovery. It did hit your fibula, but they were able to reconstruct. You'll have to go through some physical therapy, but you'll be fine."

"As long as I have you, babe." Jeff smiled. Hayley frowned, leaning away from him.

"Jeff… No."

"What?"

"I'm… I'm not staying, Jeff."

"Are you going back to _him_?"

"No. I'm not." She said, looking away from him and rubbing her arm, "I just… I can't be here anymore. The pressure is way too much. I mean, my God Jeff. I shot you."

"It was an accident."

"That doesn't matter." She said, "You could have been seriously injured. I mean, more than you already are. I put you in the _hospital_ , Jeff. Don't you understand?"

"But I love you!" He said, his voice pleading.

"I know that, Jeff." She bit her lip, her mind working behind her eyes. He could always tell when she was thinking really hard, her eyebrow would twitch so subtly.

"I wish I could be like Avery." Jeff said. Her eye shot to him.

"What?"

"I wish I could be like Bullock." Jeff said, "I wish that I was as smart as him, I wish that you would love me as much as you love him."

"Jeff, I don't-"

"Don't lie to me." He said, "I know you, and I know how you are. You never looked at me the way you looked at him. I can't even be mad about it, I know I can't change the way you feel." His eyes searched the hospital bed, taking in the lump around his right leg. He was all bandaged up, but he wasn't going to lose the leg. That had been his first worry when the gun went off, sending the bullet straight into his calf. The pain had been like fire, and there had been so much blood. They mentioned amputation in the ambulance, at which he had passed out. Not that he would have minded being one-legged, it would have been an interesting experience.

"I'm sorry, Jeff." Hayley said, "I know it's not fair to you."

"I'll be okay, Hayley." He said,, "But where are you going?"

"California." Hayley said, "I'm going to try to get into UCSC."

"California?" Jeff asked in dismay, "But that's so far away!"

"That's the point, Jeff. Maybe I just need to take a break from… everything. Get away, see more." She searched her hands, "I can't be around him any more. I think… I think I feel too strongly about him. I mean… Yes. I love him. I love him a lot, but it would never work out." She looked back to Jeff, "And I love you too, but not the same way. Do you see?"

"Yeah… I see."

"I'm sorry, Jeff." Hayley said. She stood, tugging down her tank and brushing her hair behind her shoulders. She leaned over Jeff, pressing her lips softly to his forehead.

"Keep in touch, okay?"

"Okay, Hayley." Jeff said. He watched as Hayley turned the corner and exited through the heavy wooden door, cursing his slow tongue and healing leg for not being able to stop her.

~o~O~o~


	21. Avery 9

Bullock shuffled into his home, dropping his briefcase haphazardly next to the door. His suit jacket followed and he tucked two fingers into the tie around his neck, loosening the silk until it hung like a noose. He pushed the front door closed behind him, listening for the click of the latch as it closed, before he shuffled deeper into his house.

The cell phone lay still in his pocket, feeling like a weight against his thigh. For the first few weeks he thought he had felt it vibrate, would reach for it eagerly and sweep his eyes over the screen, only to be greeted with the time, but no new messages. Now, even the ghost vibrations had ceased, leaving him with nothing.

He reached into his cabinet, feeling for his gin bottle. It was low, he would have to make a stop at the liquor store soon. He pulled out the vermouth and set his mixing glass next to it, wrenching the loose cork from the top of the bottle. A quick splash of that, then the gin, which he damn near finished off. For the best.

He stirred up the liquors and pulled out a glass, filling it nearly to the top. He thought momentarily about garnishing the glass, as he used to when he would make martinis for himself and Hayley, but decided against it. Why bother wasting the lemon? Instead, he tossed back the first glass and poured another, watching as the drops fell from the lip and disappeared into the pool underneath.

It was such a short time that they were together. He tried to remind himself of that. So many of his relationships had lasted so much longer, what was it about her that clung to him so? Perhaps it had been her youth. The press of her young, new body against his, the opportunity to teach, to learn, from someone who was so unlike himself. Perhaps it had been her fire, the only one he had found to match his own. Hers had burned hot and fast and violently, his had been old and nursed for a long time, but together they had been an unstoppable force. Was it her beauty? No… though she was beautiful, she was the most beautiful person he knew, it went beyond her large, soulful eyes and shimmering black locks.

He reached under the counter and found the remote, pressing the button without looking. A panel opened up above the bar and a black monitor lowered slowly, flickering on. He scanned the multiple screens before he found the one he was looking for. He flicked the button and the single panel filled the display.

She was leaning over a desk, hair tied back haphazardly, leaning over a laptop as she typed furiously. She wore a sports bra and an old pair of sweatpants, his sweatpants. He wondered if she remembered that they were his, or if she had just found them and forgotten their origin. He saw her sigh, close the laptop, and press the stray hairs back from her face. She pressed her fingertips into her eyes before standing from the desk and reaching for the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Part of him wished that he had put the infrared camera in her dorm room, part of him had decided that was too far a breach into her privacy. The fact of the matter was he loved her, and she deserved to be alone in the comforting darkness.

He lifted his glass to the black screen, a sad smile playing at his lips.

"To you, Hayley." He said, bringing the glass to his mouth and sipping,

 _To the one I never wanted to lose._

 _~o~O~o~_

* * *

 **A/N: Another beast that got away from me, went through some pretty significant changes from conception to completion, but I'm happy with it. I hope you are too.**


End file.
